


One Beer

by WhyDoIWrite



Series: Sunshine and Whiskey [2]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Broken Family, F/F, Friends to More Than Friends, Gay Best Friend, Soulmates, Star Quarterback, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIWrite/pseuds/WhyDoIWrite
Summary: All Lindsey ever wanted was to get out of this small town.  But now her life is blowing up before her eyes at the worst possible time, and she's never felt so lost.  So helpless.  So alone.  Right beside her stands her childhood best friend, as true and steady as God and church,  good manners and Sunday suppers, and football and Friday night lights are to the South, or at least as those things are supposed to be.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Series: Sunshine and Whiskey [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881538
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	1. Run To You

**Author's Note:**

> I was getting ready for work yesterday morning and One Beer came on and I was like.... hmmm.... yes, don't mind if I do. But like, without the girl and the boy having a happy ending.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny thinks they fit together so perfectly it might could be that in another place at another time, Lindsey would be meant for her, not some small-town star quarterback who treats her like shit.

_This world keeps spinning faster_   
_Into a new disaster so I run to you_   
_I run to you_   
_And when it all starts coming undone_   
_You're the only one I run to_   
_I run to you_

Sonny’s always been there for her. Her best friend. Her confidant. The one she ran to – like literally ran down the red dirt road along the decaying picket fence the three-quarters of a mile to the Sonnetts’ drive – in fifth grade when her dog died. The one she ran to when her parents divorced and her dad moved in to the home of the woman he had been cheating on her mom with and she didn’t think she could face the humiliation of her once picture-perfect family shattering for all the world to see. Or at least it felt like that way to her 14-year-old self. The one she told when her boyfriend finally convinced her, halfway to drunk, to have sex with him under the bleachers late one night after he’d won some big football game Sonnett didn’t care about. He called it romantic; Sonnett called it cliché. What she really wanted to call it was gross. She would have done better than the surface people’s popcorn crumbs landed on when they jumped up to celebrate a touchdown, for Lindsey’s first time. If she had ever been given the chance. She ran to Sonnett when he broke her heart, too, but she never actually told Sonnett that her heart was broken. And that was ok, because one of the best things about Emily Sonnett is that she doesn’t push. No matter how bad she wants to, no matter how convinced she is that if Lindsey will just talk to her about it, they can figure it out together, Sonnett has always let Lindsey live by her own rules at her own pace. And Sonnett has always been the one who has convinced her that life isn’t going to end, that her decisions aren’t _that_ bad, or if they are, they’re at least fixable, that she’s going to be a superstar and get the fuck out of this small town. One day. Or as she says now, someday _soon_.

So it seems normal that she’d run to Sonny now, when the uneasy feeling she’s had in her stomach for a few weeks could be normal senior-year “when am I going to get the scholarship offer from UNC I’ve been waiting for?” nerves, but it also could be something else. Something much, much worse.

“I need you to drive me to the drugstore after 7th. Before practice.”

Sonnett looks up at her from the bench where she sits in the courtyard, trying unsuccessfully to pick the bacon bits out of her pre-made cafeteria salad. Her disgusted face turns softer when she sees Lindsey. 

It always does. 

Lindsey collapses next to her, immediately feeling better. Being near Sonny always puts her at ease. Sonny is anything but calm herself, but the pure peace she exudes around Lindsey always seems to relax them both. “Here, let me do it,” Lindsey sighs, taking the plastic container from her friend. Sonnett’s index finger and thumb are covered in ranch, and Lindsey knows she hates the feeling of food on her fingers. But the tiny tines of the fork aren’t effective enough against the small pieces of bacon to make the work quick enough that Sonny can fix her salad and eat in in their thirty-minute lunch period, so she’s been trying to flick the bacon bits into a corner with her fingers. She chuckles to herself as she works, remembering how when they were six and Sonny found out that sausage came from pigs, she was devastated. When she found out that her favorite food, bacon, also came from her favorite animal, devastated didn’t even begin to describe her reaction. And then her mom had to inform Lindsey’s mom that her “youngest vegetarian ever” daughter would probably have a meltdown at their sleepover if the Horans made either for breakfast the next morning. Not eating meat in the South was weird. – the staples of brisket and bacon and catfish and roast on every table. But then again, Sonny has always been weird, so to Lindsey, it was normal. Endearing, really. She can’t imagine her life without the quirkiness of Emily Sonnett in it.

“Thanks,” Sonny mumbles. “I don’t know why they have to put all this stuff in already.”

“I know! Would it kill them to put it on the side?” Lindsey asks, siding with her friend and making Sonny grin in relief. 

She can always count on that, Lindsey sticking up for her. Lindsey making her feel less like an outcast. Like when her classmates started calling her gay in middle school. Lindsey, larger than all the other pre-teens, stood up, right at her side as tears streamed down her face. “So what if she is?” Lindsey challenged them. “She’s my best friend. And I’ll love her no matter what! She’s your friend too, and she’s the same old Sonny.” It helped having the best athlete in the school at her side her whole life. Sonny is a good soccer player, but Lindsey is out of this world. No one will mess with her as long as the threat of the wrath of one Lindsey Horan looms ominously in the air. And no one was ever going to have the guts to spread rumors about Lindsey _actually_ loving Sonnett. Besides, Lindsey is clearly straight. She had a boyfriend in kindergarten. Had a date to every school dance from 5th grade on, and always had multiple offers. Lindsey was a light that drew everyone in, not least of all Emily Sonnett.

“What do you need that can’t wait?” Sonnett asks, watching Lindsey diligently pile up all the bacon, and the pieces of tomato that she won’t eat either.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just need to go and there’s no one else I can ask to take me. Please.” Lindsey’s voice breaks with that last word and Sonnett stops questioning her. There’s not much outside of soccer that’s ever been very important to Lindsey. It seems strange that Lindsey’s brother can’t just take her after practice. It seems stranger that it needs to be before practice. Why a trip to the drugstore might be necessary is beyond Sonnett, but the why has never much mattered to her when it comes to Lindsey. “Here’s your lettuce with ranch, baby.”

Sonnett wishes she meant it the other way, not as a gentle dig at her pickiness. But with Lindsey, she’s learned to take what she can get.

She meets Lindsey outside her government class at 3:25, automatically reaching out for Lindsey’s bookbag, which she always carries, even though Lindsey is stronger, and even though Lindsey’s own boyfriend never offers. At first, Lindsey would try to resist the kind gesture; she doesn’t even bother anymore. She lets Sonnett open the passenger door of her car, too. He doesn’t do that either, at least not anymore. But Sonnett’s always going to be a perfect gentleman, to her and every other girl, whether she’s dating them or not. 

Sonnett shifts the gear into park and drums her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, waiting for her best friend to get out of her car. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, clearly she doesn’t want Sonnet to go inside the store with her. But Lindsey doesn’t budge, and the strangeness of the afternoon continues. In fact, Sonnett can’t remember the last time she’s seen her normally smooth, collected counterpart so visibly upset but _not_ verbally ranting about it. Lindsey’s knee bounces uncontrollably only a few feet from Sonnett’s hand, now on the PRNDL, and Sonnett instinctively moves her fingers there to stop it. It always works; today is no exception, not even with Lindsey wound so tightly Sonnett’s afraid she might pop

They sit there, staring out the windshield, not talking, as Kasey Musgraves plays on the radio. “Can you just go in with me?” Lindsey’s voice is a little gruff, like it only gets when she’s been crying or she’s actively trying not to cry.

“Yep, sko,” Sonny says, drawing a half-smile from Lindsey. She gets a full one when she tucks her arm in Lindsey’s after opening the door to the shop. It used to be awkward when they touched. Now neither one of them thinks anything of it. Well, Sonny thinks that they fit together so perfectly it might could be that in another place at another time, Lindsey would be meant for her, not some small-town star quarterback who treats her like shit. But reality has other plans and Sonny can’t do anything about them.

“Can I help you ladies?” the owner smiles kindly at them as the bell on the door jingles. 

“No, we’re fine,” Lindsey promises, tugging Sonny though the aisles to the far corner of the store. 

At first, Sonny thinks they’re getting tampons, which is weird, because Lindsey could have asked her for one if she needed it. Then, she thinks they’re getting condoms, and really, she doesn’t know why Lindsey feels the need to subject her to that. But Lindsey doesn’t stop until she’s standing in front of the pregnancy tests. Then, Sonny gets it. And she feels the same sinking feeling in her stomach that has been plaguing Lindsey recently. It explains why Lindsey’s been distant. It explains why she’s been so high-strung and moody. It explains a lot of things, honestly. When Lindsey finally looks up at her, there are tears on the verge of spilling past her lashes. “There are so many. I didn’t know which one I was supposed to get,” she whispers as the first tears fall.

“I got you,” Sonnett smiles a sad smile, framing Lindsey’s face and wiping away the tears with her thumbs. She doesn’t have Lindsey. Not even close. Not at all. They stare at each other, both painfully aware of this, neither willing to admit the fallacy of Sonnett’s words. Sonnett scans the boxes. There’s one for early detection. She grabs it, running the fingers of one hand over the smoothness of the cardboard while gripping Lindsey’s hand with the other. 

“How far along…” she starts, but Lindsey’s face pleads with her in a way that’s so painful, she stops. “Right. Yeah. This’ll do.”

“Sonny, I can’t check out with that. Mr. Campbell knows my mom. He’ll…” 

Sonnett gets it. She could. It would certainly go a long way in helping to move the needle away from the “Emily Sonnett’s gay” narrative. But… well… she _is_ gay, so…

Emily tucks the box into the waistband of her sweats and lets her team jacket fall over the slight bulge, effectively hiding it. 

“Sonny…”

“I said I got you. I mean it. When have I ever not meant it? _I got you, Linds_.” Sonnett pulls her back up the aisle, grabbing a generic box of tampons off the shelf as they pass. She leads Lindsey to the pain reliever aisle, gets some Tylenol, and then heads to the candy aisle, where she gets a king-sized Twix. She winks at Lindsey as they head back to the front. “Damn cramps.”

“You ladies find everything you needed?” Mr. Campbell asks.

“Shore did!” Sonnett replies, easily feigning her chipper tone. It’s well practiced by now, between having to be happy for Lindsey when she talks about him and having to hide her annoyance when well-meaning adults ask her why a pretty girl like her doesn’t have a steady boyfriend yet. Lindsey thinks she’s going to pass out, between Sonnett’s lie and Mr. Campbell’s narrowing eyes and her blood pressure, which has to be sky high by now from the stress of the entire ordeal. Sonnett tosses $30 on the counter. 

Emily Sonnett’s too good for this world, Lindsey thinks, unable to even steal a pregnancy test without having to right her wrong. It’s no wonder she’s conflicted about her religion and her sexuality. 

“Keep the change, Mr. Campbell. See ya next time!”

“He knows!” Lindsey hisses as soon as they’re outside. “Did you see how he was looking at you?”

“He was looking at me like that because he thinks I’m foolin’ around with Jane. You’re good. Trust me.”

“Well are you?” Lindsey blurts out, turning to stare at Sonnett instead of getting back in the car. Sonnett playfully pushes her down into the seat by the top of her head. Her best friend is her best friend, and they can talk about absolutely anything, but Sonnett won’t discuss her sex life. For all the needlessly explicit sex talk that comes from Lindsey, Sonnett won’t even acknowledge if she has a crush on anyone, a byproduct of the small town they live in. Technically, Sonny’s never even said she’s gay. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Lindsey, because she does, with her life; she’s been conditioned to know there are some things you just don’t talk about.

“Happy to steal this for you, Linds,” Sonnett says sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling the box from its hiding spot, “but that’s where my help ends. You’re gonna have to be the one to pee on it. Cause clearly, I’m not… you know.” 

Lindsey can’t help but giggle at that, her little way of dropping hints about her sexuality. She can always count on Sonny for a laugh at the times she needs it the most. But then, as the reality sinks in, she looks around desperately, as if a bathroom will just magically appear. 

“Text Coach,” Sonnett says softly, taking Lindsey’s hand.

“I can’t tell him.”

“You don’t have to. Tell him something came up and we can’t make it.” Lindsey looks at her horrified. They have a game Friday night. If they miss a practice they’ll both be benched. “Not a chance in hell he’ll bench you Linds, not when we’re pushing for playoffs,” Sonnett reads her mind. “Just tell him you’re sick and I’m taking you home. And text Mike and tell him, too. We’re going for malts.”

“But what about…”

“It’s not like it’s going to change anything, having some ice cream and waiting a bit. Besides, ice cream makes everything better.” What _will_ change everything is finding out, and there’s a little part of her, a part that she knows is selfish, that feels like this news just might ruin her life, too, not just Lindsey’s. And Sonnett thinks that the only thing that could make this impossible situation a fraction of an ounce better is if, in some magical world, this could be Lindsey and her, not Lindsey and him.

“What about you?”

Sonnett shrugs. “I am the best defender on the team. I know we don’t exactly need a defense with you out there scoring hattys every game, but I’m probably safe.” She sounds a lot more confident than she really is as she says it, but she figures Lindsey needs her more than she needs to start on that backline. She gets back out of the car, walking around to Lindsey’s side and opening the door. “Well, are you coming or not, woman?” Lindsey stares up at her helplessly. Sonny starts by gently taking the phone from her hand. “Smile for me, princess,” she winks, turning it around to use Lindsey’s face to unlock the home screen. 

“Sonny,” Lindsey whines, knowing a smile is completely unnecessary for unlocking her phone. But she smiles anyway because she can’t help it. “What if we’re doing all this for nothing? What if I’m not even…”

“Well, then you can thank me for the spontaneous ice cream date.” Sonnett sends the texts Lindsey wouldn’t, then sets her phone to Do Not Disturb because otherwise, Lindsey will fret over all of the incoming angry texts from their coach. Next, she takes the pregnancy test out of Lindsey’s other hand and shoves it in the front pocket of her bookbag. “Outta sight, outta mind.” 

God, how Lindsey wishes. 

“My lady,” Sonnett reaches her hand out to help Lindsey out of the car, and they’re back inside the drugstore. They grab a seat at the counter, Mr. Campbell’s eyes burning into Emily. Lindsey see him every time she spins nervously on her stool and catches him behind the register staring.

“I can’t tell if he’s eying you because he’s worried you’ll corrupt his daughter or because he thinks you’re cheating on her,” Lindsey leans over, purposely too close in case it’s the latter, and whispers in Emily’s ear. 

Emily just shrugs and continues drinking her chocolate malt.

“Come on, Sonny, you know the absolute worst thing there could ever be to know about me now. Give me something. Just one thing I don’t know about you.”

“Ok,” Sonnett says slowly. “I actually like tomatoes, but you asked if you could have mine one time and I can’t say no to you, so I told you I don’t like them. I lied. Sorry ‘bout it.” Lindsey snorts, and Sonnett thinks she could spend forever making Lindsey laugh and be completely happy with that and that alone. 

“You know what I mean, Son,” Lindsey laughs that beautiful laugh that Sonnett will never tire of.

Sonnett lets out a heavy sigh. She’s avoided conversations like this for years. But she doesn’t feel like holding out anymore because she knows talking about it will distract Lindsey. And really, Lindsey is right. At this point, it’s only fair, and if she can be a light for Lindsey, even a momentary one, she will. Sometimes, temporary distraction is as good as it gets. “One day, the right girl will notice me.” At least Sonnett hopes she will. “Until then, kissing Jane every once in a while’ll have to suffice.”

“Sonny!” Lindsey squeals before getting shushed. “Kissing? Is that all though?”

“Yeah, it is,” Sonnett turns serious. “Linds, I…” she doesn’t know how to explain herself, her way of reconciling her religion and her sexuality. But she tries because it’s Lindsey. “There are things that you’re supposed to only do with people you’re in love with. And there’s only…” she stops herself from admitting too much. “And I’m not in love with anyone who’s in love with me,” Sonnett corrects herself. “It’s not like I’m saving myself for marriage; I haven’t let the Baptists brainwash me that much yet, but well, I’d be thinking about someone else if I did anyway, and that wouldn’t be fair.”

Lindsey’s cheeks burn. Not because she thinks she’s the someone else, though she certainly could be, but because she’s sleeping with him and isn’t sure she loves him. She’s certain he doesn’t love her. She couldn’t even save herself for someone she loved. He wouldn’t stop pushing her. It’s just what people do. He would have broken up with her if she hadn’t, and then where would she be? He probably would have spread rumors about her. He’s the only boy in the school who would ever be able to ruin her reputation. All she can do now is hope he hasn’t, hope he doesn’t, ruin her life. “Who’s the someone else?” Lindsey bumps Sonnett’s knee with her own. 

“Nah, you said tell you one thing and you got two. We’re good for at least a coupla years now. You ready?”

“No.” Lindsey wishes her malt would last forever. Or at least that she could just sit with Sonnett forever. Anything to not snap this false peace and be forced back to reality. 

“Sko, Linds.” Sonnett’s voice is gentle, but the hand on the small of Lindsey’s back is insistent. 

“You gon make me pee in the woods?” Lindsey asks, following Sonnett down a not so well-worn path. “I mean, I know I need privacy, but like, don’t you think this is kind of extreme?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sonnett says, but it’s only half-playful. Lindsey isn’t the only one feeling the stress of what’s going to have to happen at some point. Sonnett doesn’t talk as she walks, but she does reach back and help Lindsey over every downed log and reminds her to watch her step in some of the muddier areas. Eventually, it turns into Emily holding Lindsey’s hand behind her as they walk on the narrow trail, neither one of them seeing much of a point in letting go. “Here,” Sonnett finally proclaims. In a small stand of trees sits what Lindsey can only describe as her childhood visions of what a witch’s house in the woods might look like, uniformly thick tree branches propped up against each other and the surrounding trees to build walls and a roof. 

“What _is_ this?” she asks, a mixture of awe and confusion.

“This is… it’s my place.”

“Your place?”

“Yeah.” While Lindsey ran to Sonny when things went wrong in her life, Sonny ran to the woods, always deeming her problems to insignificant to trouble Lindsey. Over years, she built this. Not letting go of Lindsey’s hand, she guides her in through the opening that serves as an entrance. 

“Sonny, it has… rooms.”

“Yeah,” Sonnett shrugs. “Careful of that tree root. It wasn’t exactly moveable.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sonnett sighs. “It started out when I was little. I’d run off because my mom wanted to drag me to piano or put me in a tutu. I convinced myself I could live out here if only I had a house. So I started building a house.”

Lindsey imagines Sonnett as a child, dragging branches longer than she was tall, to build walls. 

“I started out with only a pocketknife, so it was sloooooow going, but then when I got older, I jacked a saw from my dad. See, these cuts are a lot nicer,” she says, running her fingers over the edge of a cedar log and appreciating its smoothness. “Anyway, I realized how stupid it was way before I finished it, but at that point, I kinda just felt like I had to finish it. I couldn’t put a roof on it til almost high school because I wasn’t tall enough, so I mean, the whole thing was kinda pointless, and really, it still is, honestly, but I like to come here and just sit sometimes. I mean, I could sit on that damn log over there,” Sonnett points through a gap a walls a way to a fallen tree, “and it would be the same, but there’s just something about it, about being inside here, that feels safer I guess.”

And Lindsey gets it. It does feel safe. It feels like they’re in their own little log cabin and no one knows where they are and they could stay here forever, just the two of them. “It’s not stupid, Sonny. I like it in here.”

Sonnett smiles, this wistful, almost pained smile, and squeezes Lindsey’s hand. “Yeah,” she says softly. She slides down against the wall until she’s sitting on the dirt floor and leaning back into the knotty cedar posts. Lindsey follows her and slides her hand into Sonny’s again. “I’ve always found peace here,” she mumbles into Lindsey’s shoulder. “I just want you to find some peace, too, and know that no matter what, this place is here. And I’m here for you. Always. Promise.”

Lindsey flinches at that word. Her dad promised her things, like he’d still love her, when he left. But now, he’s too concerned with his new wife and baby to even check on her. Too busy to make it to most of her games. Daddy’s little girl, the daughter he spent hours kicking a ball with, has been replaced. Her boyfriend promised her he’d make her feel good. It never has. Well, except to him. He always leaves feeling good. He promised her he loved her, but she saw him fucking a cheerleader up against the equipment shed one day. She turned and walked the other way; no point in confronting him. What good could come out of that very public fight and very public breakup? He made her send him nudes. He’s taken pictures of her on her knees. He’d ruin her chances at signing that scholarship with North Carolina. He’d ruin her chances of getting out. Really, she hoped he’d just leave her for that cheerleader, but she hasn’t gotten that lucky yet. He’s probably still fucking her. Sonny knows about her dad, but she doesn’t know about that. Lindsey hasn’t told her, mostly out of sheer humiliation, but there’s also a little piece of Lindsey who is convinced that Sonnett would pay one of the nerds to poison his food if she ever found out. That or she’d get her daddy’s gun and take care of him herself. “Sonny…” she whispers. All Lindsey’s ever wanted was to get out of this damn town. Soccer was her out. Her out may be gone now. But Sonny’s out isn’t. There’s no way she stays. Why would she? This is Lindsey’s problem. She wouldn’t let Sonny stay if she tried.

“I know how much you hate that word, Linds, I do. But I’m not sorry for saying it, because I mean it with every fiber of my being. I’m always right here for you. When you feel lost or broken, when you’re scared or you feel like you can’t go on, the farthest I’ll ever be is a text away. All you have to do is tell me you need me and I’ll come to you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing. No matter what happens with this,” she softly, pressing a kiss into Lindsey’s shoulder as her hand settles on Lindsey’s stomach. "If this is real, Linds, yain't goin' though it alone."


	2. Make You Feel My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey doesn’t know much of anything outside of small town Georgia, but there’s something about lying in Sonny’s arms that makes her believe that this is the best, safest place that exists. She doesn’t have to see any more of the world to know that. 

_When the evening shadows  
And the stars appear  
And there is no one there  
To dry your tears  
I could hold you  
For a million years  
To make you feel my love_

“Um… I think we’re lost.”

“What the hell, Sonny? I told you we needed to start heading back to the car before it got too dark.” Lindsey grips Sonnett’s hand tighter, and Sonnett just chuckles. “This isn’t funny!” Lindsey hisses, a little loudly, in case there are any foxes or creatures of the night that she needs to warn of their presence. 

“I know these woods like I know the back of your hand. I’m kidding. Calm down, scaredy cat.” Sonnett turns off down a narrow path Lindsey never would have found in the fading light, and within a few minutes, they’re back at her car.

“Are you going to be ok at home tonight? Doing this by yourself?”

“No,” Lindsey says honestly. She hates admitting that she’s not ok, but she’s not.

“Well do you want to ask your mom if you can spend the night at mine?”

“She’s working nights, she won’t even know if I’m home or not. But your mom won’t say yes.”

“What my mom doesn’t now won’t hurt her,” Sonnett says, like it’s not a problem.

Lindsey Horan. The only person in the world who Sonnett will ever break a rule for. The only person Sonnett will lie to her parents for. The only person she would do a lot of things for.

Lindsey sighs, well aware of all of this by this point in their friendship. “I want you there when I- ”

“Then it’s settled,” Sonnett cuts her off.

“Emily Ann!” Jane hollers as Emily bursts into the house. “What have I told you about letting that screen door slam?”

“Hi, Daddy,” Emily skids to a stop in the living room, running over to the rocking chair where her father is sitting to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“You missed supper!” Jane continues, drying her hands on a dish rag as she comes out of the kitchen. “Now where are you off to?” she asks, exasperated, as Emily bounds up the stairs. “Why’re you so late? Aren’t you hungry?” 

“Not hungry, Momma,” Emily calls back, continuing up the stairs, two at a time. By the time she gets her bedroom window open, Lindsey has already climbed the fence, hopped on the overhang, and scaled the roof to Sonnett’s bedroom, just like she’s done since she was ten. It occurs to her that she may not be able to do this much longer if…

“Hey there,” Sonnett smiles at her, helping her in through the open window. 

They plop down on the twin bed, side-by-side, staring at the ceiling in silence, until Lindsey takes hold of Sonnett’s hand and Sonnett turns her head to look at her friend. “Are you hungry?” she asks, realizing all she’s seen Lindsey eat today is that malt. She didn’t even eat lunch as far as Sonnett knows.

“Starving, honestly.”

And with that, Sonnett’s tumbling back down the stairs and making Lindsey a plate of leftovers.

“Why are you eating meat?” Emma asks from the desk where she’s doing her homework, drawing a glare from Sonnett and the attention of both of her parents. “And why weren’t you at- ” Sonnett’s eyes cut into her causing her to stop before it’s too late and she’s outed her sister for something she obviously wants to keep private. They don’t get along the best, but they’re better now than when they were younger, constantly telling on each other for lamps broken by stray kicks despite the very firm “No ball in the house!” rule and candy bars sneaked out of the Halloween stash before dinner. Emily thinks that their relationship seemed to shift for the better when Emma realized Emily was probably gay. Maybe it was because Emma felt sorry for her, Emily’s not sure and she wasn’t going to ask, but she stopped relaying every interaction of Emily’s day to their parents sometime around middle school, letting Emily keep the teasing and taunting to herself. And eventually the crushes, too. It was Emma who caught her holding hands with Jane in the locker room after practice one day. Emily was sure she was going to tell their parents, payback for all the times Emily ratted her sister out for her “boyfriends.” But Emma didn’t say a word, to their parents or to Emily, about it. Emily’s always wanted to thank her, but ever enough to force herself to bring it back up. Besides, if Emma wanted to talk about it, she could bring it up, and clearly, Emma doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Coach says I need more iron right now. Figured I could temporarily suspend my vegetarian status for the sake of the team. Gotta get that championship!”

“Why didn’t you come home after practice, honey?” Bill asks.

“Lindsey and I had an indoor session with some of the boys after. Good competition. Getting us ready for Central. Her parents, thankfully, leave it at that. “Momma, can Lindsey spend the night sometime?”

“Sure, hon,” Jane says absentmindedly, continuing to clean the kitchen. “After the game Friday?”

“That’d be great. Thanks Momma.”

She’s not lying, Sonnett reasons with herself. She didn’t specifically say when. Sometime is… well… it could be anytime. And anytime happens to be now. And maybe Friday, too. There was no specified limit on the number of times Jane gave permission for Lindsey to stay over, after all. Besides, Jane would never say no to Lindsey. She’s wary about any other girls Sonnett invites over, and has been ever since she started expecting one of her twins wasn’t interested in boys. But Jane’s known Lindsey since she was three and Lindsey is straight, so she has never batted an eye at Lindsey staying in her daughter’s bedroom. 

“Green beans, 50-50 mashers, and a ribeye,” Sonnett announces in a hushed tone as she shuts her bedroom door behind her quietly. She sits back on her bed and watches Lindsey wolf down the food, even the mashers, despite Lindsey’s aversion to sweet potatoes.

It’s not until Lindsey’s halfway finished with the plate that she realized Sonnett isn’t eating too. “Oh,” she starts, kind of embarrassed as she pushes the plate across the bed. “Do you want some?”

Sonnett rolls over to look at her. “Nope. I’m fine.”

Sonnett smiles at her like she adores her and it’s a little bit heartbreaking, a little bit heartwarming. “You sure? I can share. Eat some green beans at least? Sonny, this is so good.”

“I know.” While Emily has always felt like the outcast daughter, unwilling to participate in the girly – also known as socially appropriate – activities that her mother placed her in growing up, shunning them all for soccer, she was always interested in cooking. Her Nana popped her up on the counter when she could barely walk and let her “help” bake bread, brownies, cookies, pies. She let Emily taste everything, from her favorite, brown sugar, to bland flour, to disgusting vanilla extract that Emily spewed across her cabinets. Emily was determined to taste everything for herself, to not take someone else’s word for whether something would be good or bad for her, and Nana recognized her fiery independence. Refused to stamp it out. When Nana died, Emily took her love for cooking back home, helping her mom in the kitchen every chance she got. Jane used to tell her that she’d make a man very happy someday. Emily would smile her tight, closed-lip smile and nod, and think about how there might come a time she could make dinner for someone else, and make _her_ very happy. As she watches Lindsey eat, she thinks about how she could make the exact meal herself, blindfolded probably – you can tell the doneness of meat by touch, after all – about how she would cook for her every night if she could.

“What?” Lindsey asks, mouth full.

“Nothing,” Emily shakes her head but doesn’t look away even though she was caught staring. 

_What she wants to say is, “You’re beautiful.”_

_What she wants to say is, “I love you.”_

_What she wants to say is, “I always have.”_

_What she wants to say is, “Nothing’s gonna change. I’ll still love you no matter what.”_

She doesn’t say any of it. She can't. Not in words, at least. But if she can show Lindsey how much she loves her by staying at her side, well, that will just have to suffice. Even if she were brave enough, or crazy enough to use words, she wouldn’t have had the chance to; Emma bursts into her room without knocking

“Why weren’t you at- ” She stops when she sees Lindsey, confused. “Oh, hey Linds. What’s up?”

“Hey, Emma. Not much,” Lindsey says, swallowing her food.

Emma calms down in Lindsey’s presence, deciding not to rudely interrogate her twin like she had planned, but she’s known Lindsey as long as Emily has, and has no plans to just let their absence at practice slide. “So…” she throws up her hands, frustrated. “Where were y’all?” Her eyes fixate on Emily, not Lindsey, because she knows Emily won’t lie to her. “Coach said you were sick,” she turns briefly to Lindsey, “but she doesn’t look sick, Emily. We have a big game on Friday. What the fuck was more important to the two of y’all than practice?” Emily knows she’s mad, more so at Lindsey than at her, because Lindsey is the team captain and because Emily would never miss practice if it were up to her. Emily hasn’t ever missed a practice, not in four years. Not when she was puking her guts out at home and came up to school just for practice. Not when she stayed up all night finishing an English project and was so exhausted she could hardly stand the next day. Sonnetts don’t miss practice, and yet today, it was her idea. Emma doesn’t need to know that, and she certainly wouldn’t believe it anyway.

“Boyfriend problems,” Emily tosses out before Lindsey can even think of a lie. And it’s not a lie. Not exactly, so she can say it without feeling bad about it. “She was emotionally sick, how ‘bout that?”

Emma rolls her eyes, and turns back to Lindsey. “So what are you doing here?” And then to Emily, “And why’d you sneak her in? You coulda just asked Momma.”

“Still emotionally sick,” Lindsey offers, a little sarcastically. Emma’s fine. She likes Emma all right. But the fact that she doesn’t seem to be publicly accepting of her own sister has always bothered Lindsey. She’s more like Jane, concerned with appearances, and that includes the impact of Emily’s appearance on Emma’s social life.

“And Momma woulda said no. It’s a school night. She just needs a place to crash tonight. No biggie.”

“Whatever.” Emma rolls her eyes and leaves the room, shutting Emily’s door behind her. 

Lindsey is the first one to burst out in a hushed fit of giggles when Emma leaves. “Does she think- ”

“No,” Emily snorts. “Everyone knows you’re straight as an arrow, Linds.” Lindsey’s eyes narrow, just for a split second, Emily’s sure of it, no matter how fast it happened, and Lindsey’s lips separate, just barely, like in that same split second, she thought about saying something. But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. She never will. Emily knows this, but it’s not going to stop her from wishing. And hoping. And daydreaming. “So are you ready to do this?”

“I… I have that Environmental Systems project. Maybe I should do that first? Maybe I’ve barely started it?”

“Linds…”

“What? I’ve had soccer. I’ve been busy,” Lindsey says defensively, but she knows that really, she’s just a procrastinator, and really, that’s not what Sonnett means. She buries her face into Sonnett’s shoulder, letting the smaller girl hold her. Sonnett always makes her feel safe. Safe like her dad used to make her feel. Safe like no one else in her life makes her feel now. Safe like she thought she’d never feel again after her dad left. Safe like she hoped she’d find with him, especially after she slept with him, but that was a joke. Safe like she wonders if she’ll _ever_ feel with anyone else again. She hasn’t seen the world. Doesn’t know much of anything outside of Ocilla, save for the occasional trips into Atlanta or Macon, the once-a-year escape to Tulsa for the Regional ODP camp, and that one magical time her club team got to play at Disney World for a tournament. But there’s something about lying here in the silence that makes her think that Sonny’s arms are the best, most safest place in the whole wide world, and that she doesn’t have to see any more of the world to know that. She has no idea how long she lies there like that, Sonnett run her nails softly between Lindsey’s shoulder blades as she relaxes almost to the point of sleep. But then her eyes fly open and she’s wide awake again, and panicky.

Sonnett, lulled almost to sleep herself, feels the change in Lindsey’s body immediately and grabs her tight. “You’re safe. You’re fine, Linds. I’m right here.” It’s not like this is the first time Lindsey has snapped out of sleep in a panic. It happened a lot after her dad left. Sonnett’s reaction is from her gut, an instinct she developed years ago that’s never left, despite the fact that over time, Lindsey adjusted to her broken family.

“I don’t want to know, Sonny. I can’t know. I can’t ruin my life like this. I can’t _do_ this. I can’t handle this,” she fights to get away, like if she can just run fast enough, her life can’t catch her.

But Emily pulls her back into a hug that says she both _can_ do this, and _is_ going to do this. They’re going to do this. Together. 

“You have to come with me,” Lindsey mumbles into her neck.

“To pee?”

“Yes to pee. I can’t do this by myself.”

“You can’t pee by yourself?”

“Sonny…”

“God, you’re so weird. Fine.” Emily grabs the box out of her bag and Lindsey’s hand. “Let’s go pee. But do I like, have to watch you pee? Is that what this is? Is this some kind of thing like you’re not really gonna pee on it if I’m not monitoring you? You know, like when people try to use someone else’s pee for a drug test?” Emily asks as they head to her bathroom. She’s half serious about it, but it makes Lindsey smile and earns her a punch on the arm.

“No. I’ll pee on it. Turn around.”

Emily doesn’t turn around. She slides down against the bathroom wall until she’s sitting on the floor, and she stares at the tile, but she doesn’t turn around. It takes Lindsey forever to pee, or at least it feels like forever. She thinks about joking that her presence is scaring Lindsey’s bladder. She has time to wonder if it would screw up the results if they both peed on it or if the test would still find the pregnancy… well whatever pregnancy stuff it finds… anyway. She considers referring to the test’s ability to predict pregnancy _germs_ , but her common sense kicks in and stops her. That’s a rare occurrence. She thinks her inability to hold her tongue is just another one of the things her mom doesn’t like about her. Girls are to be seen, not heard. They don’t speak out, or out of turn. They don’t say inappropriate things. Emily thinks Jane shouldn’t have left them for eight hours a day with Nana when they were little while she went to work, if that were the case. Her grandma, her dad’s mom, was quite the outspoken, beer loving, liberal feminist. She finally hears the telltale sound she’s been waiting for, closes her eyes, and presses her head back into the wall, praying hard that Lindsey’s life isn’t going to be turned upside down in a few minutes. 

A few seconds later, Lindsey is kicking her foot. “Set a timer.”

“How long?”

“How should I know? I didn’t read the box. That’s why I have you.”

She thinks about making another joke, about how Lindsey probably can’t raise a kid without her either, except that wouldn’t be funny. Instead she reaches her phone up to Lindsey’s face so Lindsey can see the timer’s already counting down from three minutes.

“Told you I needed you,” Lindsey says softly, thankfully, sitting beside Sonnett on the cold floor. 

Sonnett takes Lindsey’s hand and puts it in her lap. “You don’t _need_ anyone, Linds. You never have. You think you do, but you don’t.” It’s sad, what’s happened to Lindsey over the years, Sonnett thinks. She can remember their childhood when Lindsey didn’t need a damn soul to do anything. She wouldn’t ask for help when she was trying to climb a tree. She screamed at Mike for helping her catch the frog she was after. She never wanted a hand when she crossed that slippery log to get to the other side of the creek. Now, off the soccer field, all grown up, she’s like a different person from that headstrong kid that Sonny remembers.

“Whatever,” Lindsey mumbles, not believing her. Maybe she doesn’t _need_ anyone, but it’s sure a lot nicer to have someone. Especially when that someone is Emily Sonnett. The timer beeps far too soon, startling both of them. “Will you? Please?”

With a heavy sigh, Sonnett gets up, prepared for the emotional baggage that she knows in her gut she’s going to be lifting for a long, long time.

“Sonny- ”

She knows Lindsey wants to know what it says, but she can’t bring herself to look at it. It’s not her job. But more than that, she fears Lindsey associating the words “You’re pregnant,” with her voice for the rest of their lives, and she doesn’t want that. “We’ll look at it together,” she says, sitting back down next to Lindsey, hand covering the stick.

“You’re touching my pee, you know?” Lindsey giggles.

Emily giggles right alongside her, keenly aware that this could be the last time Lindsey has anything to giggle about for a long time. “Yeah…” she bumps Lindsey’s shoulder. “Lucky I love you and it doesn’t bother me.”

Lindsey knows Sonny doesn’t mean it like that, but it doesn’t change the fact that the words warm her in a way that they don’t when he says them to her in the back of his truck. It doesn’t stop her from having this _what if_ moment.

_What if she weren’t straight._

_What if she had fallen for Emily Sonnett instead._

_What if Emily really loved her. Like that._

_What if all of that happened and none of this ever happened and…_

“One. Two. You ready?” Sonnett asks, noticing how distracted she is. Lindsey nods. “Well then open your eyes, dork.” Emily waits. “Three.”

Two pink lines.

Two pink lines change everything.

Two pink lines that some couples wait years for and never see, like Emily’s own parents who tried for so long to have kids, and for even longer to give the twins a sibling.

And now Emily’s got Lindsey’s head in her lap, on the cold, uncomfortable tile floor, running her fingers through Lindsey’s hair as Lindsey sobs in silence. Emily holds her because she has to, the only one carrying the heavy burden with Lindsey, because when it comes down to it, as popular as Lindsey is, she really doesn’t have anyone else. Emily holds her tongue because there’s absolutely nothing even she could say that could make this even a fraction of a percent ok right now. Emily holds her own feelings in because she has to; it’s not her life that is basically over. She holds Lindsey for what seems like hours, until Lindsey finally pushes herself out of Emily’s lap, and sits back against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees. Then, Emily does the only thing she can think of. She stands, struggles to pull Lindsey to her feet, but gets her up, and wraps her arms around Lindsey’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Lindsey asks hoarsely.

“Dance with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because a baby is supposed to be a happy thing, a blessing, and- ”

“Sonny this is not… It’s the end of the world. My life is over.” There are a million thoughts swirling around inside Lindsey’s head, things she doesn’t want to think about right now. It’s all too much to try to process, but her brain keeps trying to force her to process it all. At the same time. Her family’s reaction. His. Her coach’s. Will she graduate? Is she just going to be her mom waitressing for the rest of her life? Stuck in this piece of shit water tower town, raising a kid she can’t afford, repeating a cycle she was supposed to break. Should she even keep it? She hates herself more than she’s ever hated herself in her entire life, and there have definitely been times before that she’s hated herself. She thinks she could die right now and that would be better. 

“I know. I know it’s not happy right now. I know we’re not going to celebrate and tell everybody and be excited, and I know this isn’t what you ever imagined your life would be, but Linds, we don’t know what God has in store for us. We don’t know what his plans are with all of this. It’s scary, it’s… well what if we find a way to get through it. Together. Like we always do. We can do anything together, and with God.” She steps closer into Lindsey’s space again. 

Lindsey doesn’t even know if she believes in God. She hasn’t really in years. She goes to church on Sundays like she’s supposed to, but that doesn’t mean she believes. But she believes in Emily Sonnett. Even though she doesn’t want to believe in that unshakable optimism, it’s like her heart gives her no other choice. The girl standing in front of her is the only person who’s never let her down.

“So just in case, years from now, you decide this wasn’t the worst night of your life, we should do something besides cry. Celebrate or something. You know, so you have an alternate version of the story to tell. We should dance.”

Lindsey knows there’s no world, not even years from now, where this will be ok, but thinks she could maybe let herself be distracted from all of it for a few minutes. Even if it is just to humor Sonny. “We don’t even have any music.”

“I can fix that.” Sonnett drags Lindsey out of her bathroom. It’s better, away from the harsh fluorescent light, in her room lit up year-round by a couple of strands of Christmas lights and a blue lava lamp, with a poster of the National Team on the wall. 

Familiar notes from a piano fill the room through Sonnett’s small Bluetooth speaker. “Slow dance? Really?”

“Well you suck at all other kinds of dancing,” Sonnett grins, visualizing Lindsey’s attempts to dance to hip hop in the locker room before games.

“That’s not true, I can two-step.”

“Wanna two-step then?” Sonnett looks around her bedroom. She can make it work. If she kicks some of the piles of clothes aside, they probably won’t trip.

“No,” Lindsey shakes her head, unable to hide her smile. “We’re not two-stepping.”

She smiled. She can still smile. She’s still Lindsey, and she’s going to be ok. Somehow. Through all of this, she’s going to be ok. She’s always ok. “Out of options, then,” Sonnett wraps her arms around Lindsey’s neck again. This time, Lindsey slides her arms around Sonnett’s waist and pulls her in close. This time, Lindsey leans down and presses her cheek into Sonnett’s. “Well I’ll be damned,” Sonnett murmurs. She didn’t really think Lindsey would dance with her, she just couldn’t think of anything else to do in the moment to fix something that has no fix, and this was the best she could come up with to make it a little better.

Lindsey gets lost in the scent of her shampoo. In the way Sonnett’s body feels pressed up against her. In the way they move and in how good Sonnett is to her. She doesn’t even realize the song has ended, she just keeps swaying there with her best friend until Sonnett’s voice fills the silence and she realizes she doesn’t hate dancing, not when it’s with Sonnett.

“Bedtime. We’re probably going to have so much extra running tomorrow because we missed practice today.”

“I have to write that report.”

“Bedtime,” Sonnett repeats, like it’s not even up for discussion, and frankly, Lindsey is too tired to argue and too tired to write anything anyway. 

Tomorrow, she’ll think of another lie to tell her science teacher. Bat her eyelashes. Play the varsity soccer player card. Something will work. It’s not like any of the teachers at the school are going to let her fail anyway, not when her eligibility is directly tied into the team’s success. She gives in and climbs into Sonnett’s small bed, not at all mad that there’s no room for them to sleep apart. She wouldn’t want to if they could. She needs Sonny holding her now more than she ever has.

She falls asleep thinking about how she had one first time to find out she was pregnant, and out of all of the people in her life, Sonny was the only one she ever considered having by her side. She falls asleep thinking of all the times Sonny said “we” and “us,” so easily tonight. Like she meant it. Like from the beginning this, to Sonnett, has been just as much her problem as Lindsey’s. Except Sonny has this magical ability to somehow see it not as a problem, but as something they’ll get through, like there’s just no other option _but_ to get through it. And Lindsey supposes she’s right about that. She falls asleep wanting to keep hating herself, but finding it a little bit harder to. She falls asleep thinking about the different types of love she learned about in English class during the Greek mythology unit. There’s no doubt in her mind that she loves Emily Sonnett. _Philia_. She has true _philia_ in her life because of Sonnett, but Sonnett is the epitome of _agape_. She falls asleep wondering if maybe those kinds of love are true love.

When Sonnett is positive Lindsey is sound asleep, which doesn’t take too long because Lindsey is emotionally drained, she slips out of the bed and turns on her laptop. She logs into Lindsey’s google drive and finds her Environmental Systems folder. Inside, there’s a doc Lindsey started, weeks ago, it seems, according to the last time she opened it. It’s not even a page long, on sea turtles, but looking at the instructions, it’s supposed to be a ten-page research paper. Sonnett takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes. Tomorrow morning, Lindsey’s going to wake up and realize she doesn’t have clothes to wear, get all annoyed, and then start bitching when she goes through Sonnett’s closet and finds her Nike hoodie that Sonnett “borrowed” last winter and “forgot” to return. She’s going to be all dramatic about how she should just pretend to be sick for another day so she can turn her paper in late. And then, she’s going to remember everything that happened tonight, and probably have another breakdown. Sonnett figures the least she can do for her best friend is take this research paper off her plate. At least that way, when she wakes up tomorrow, Lindsey’s day can start with one tiny speck of positivity. And it’s sea turtles… how hard can it be to write nine pages about sea turtles?

**Author's Note:**

> Lord only knows how slow I'm going to be about updating this because how many more are actively going right now? I don't even know. So if it's something you want to read, hit subscribe and then just forget about it for awhile because it'll probably be awhile.


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